


Like my Father

by Aziraphale7



Category: Gotham - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 06:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17381789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aziraphale7/pseuds/Aziraphale7
Summary: A discussion of ghosts brings up rather haunting memories for Elijah.





	Like my Father

The wooden halls of the manor still sounded the same. After all this time it was as if the home itself had never aged, only the people within it. His socks slipped across the hardwood floor as he slowly walked towards the oh so familiar room. Each creak in the floorboards made him feel more and more unsettled, an eeriness surrounding his typical warm and welcoming home. 

 

The surrounding area was dimly lit by the candle that he held so tightly in his grasp. A portion of his hand had droplets of dried wax upon the skin. His hand shook as he walked, dripping wax onto both his skin and the floor. The sudden sound of a rush of wind made the man jump back slightly, brown eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and fear. Though the shock faded, his fear lingered. Each of his steps became more weighted as he went on, his hands growing more tense and shaky with each step that he took. 

 

The study wasn’t far from the stairs, a simple turn around the corner and yet it seemed his body grew heavier with each movement in it’s direction. It was as if even his body could instinctive withdraw back into that time. The closer he became, the more his mind flickered with memories. He could still remember every little detail of the incident. The blood that ran down his father’s face and the outstretched hand. The smoking gun nearby. His hand reached out as his dull eyes mindlessly stared ahead. 

 

The doorknob was cold to the touch, metal and heavy. The man tugged at the doorknob, his pulls and tugs growing more desperate as time passed on. Memories flickered through his mind as he pulled at the door in despair. It had to open! It had to this time! His breathing grew ragged and his heart raced despite the minimal effort in such a task. The sudden touch of a cold hand upon his shoulder made him turn swiftly, falling back against the locked study door. 

 

His dark eyes were widened as he looked up into the image of a familiar face.  _ His father _ . The man wished to speak but his voice seemed to vanish in that moment. His lips parted but nothing left. His back was pressed painfully against the door as the figure reached out towards him, as if going to cup his cheek. His heart felt as though it may just suddenly stop from beating so desperately. He wanted to call out for Grace, for anyone-- 

 

“ _ Do you believe in ghosts, Oswald? _ ” The voice of his dearest wife knocked him free from his mind at last. The memory of the other night’s venturings left his mind as his gentle brown gaze focused onto his son. A small smile crossed his lips as if to reassure Oswald that it was alright to speak. “ _ Of course, I have seen many _ .” His son replied, smiling despite the ominous tone of the conversation. 

 

Elijah reached forward for his glass, taking a drink of the refreshingly cold water. It was not hidden that the Van Dahl residence was haunted and had been for oh so many years now. Though the true extent of said hauntings were never truly shared. A chill ran through his spine at the thought and memory. He watched his family before him continue their conversations about ghosts and their experiences with the paranormal. Hell, even Charles was enthusiastically talking of his own experiences. 

The male released a silent sigh, continuing to simply watch them and enjoy the presence of those he had known for years now and his son, whom he had just been more recently blessed to meet. They certainly had a lot of time to catch up on and tomorrow was the perfect day to do so. His smile broadened every slightly at the thought, his gaze catching Oswald’s for a moment, causing the younger man to smile in return. 

 

_ They say the Van Dahl family is cursed with dying within the residence. That every generation that died here became the spirits that so dutifully haunted the manor _ . Elijah was determined to believe he would not die here. He leaned forward to take another drink, a tightness growing in his chest. As soon as the thought had crossed his mind, he swore he felt the familiar touch of cold against his shoulder. 


End file.
